There is No Line
by 102352
Summary: If you take an object, and divide it in half, and half again, and continue to divide it, at what point does it cease to exist? Is there a point at which it crosses away from existance? Or does it just descend into darkness? Previously Gift of the Stars
1. Plague

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of The Rings, or any of the recognizable characters.

Author's Note: This is my first story, so please review.

This fan fiction starts out with several scenes, so to avoid confusion I will tell you that he scenes on earth are told from Katrina's point of view, an the scenes in middle earth are told in 3rd person. Also, this will make a lot more sense if you have read the Silmarillion; because it is based on a question I had regarding Luthien's death. The chapter about her is recorded on YouTube, if you haven't read the Silmarillion. (Sorry- I have no idea how to spell that.) Anyway, on to the story.

Chapter 1- **Plague**

~~~~England, October of 1349~~~~

I glance back at the village behind me. It is all I knew, that little pocket of life nestled on the slopes of the great hill I now climb. I glance upward, and sigh. We still have so far to go. I glance back again… I could turn around. I could say that the Lord of the castle we approached had turned us away at the door. But no. I wouldn't do that. We are their last chance, my sister Caroline and I. We had been safe for so long, in this secluded little hamlet as the villages around us fell. And now, it threatens all. Plague. I could still hear the word, echoing in my inner ear, as a woman had screamed it in fear and pain. Plague. Her son had been the first, and then it had spread like wildfire, only more deadly, until Caroline and I had been the last ones healthy. The village wise woman had bid us come here, and so we came.

_"They healed me once, when I was but a little girl. I had been trapped in a blizzard, and they brought me back to life. I believe they are fairies in that castle on the hill. They glow, as if with starlight. The Lady especially. Perhaps she is Queen of Faerie? I do not know."_

_She then broke from her reverie, and spared Caroline and me a glance. "You shall go, both of you. Find us a cure. That is your task."_

_She then hunched over, and stared, broodingly, into the fire. Our audience was over._

We are alone. Our friends are dead or dying, and the few who are almost healthy will be in that position soon. We are the only hope, and yet we have none. We have resolved ourselves with death.

The gate creaks open of its own accord. I jump; I hadn't realized that we were already here. Caroline smiles at me thinly, and I return the nervous smile.

We enter, attempting in vain to silence our pounding hearts, our echoing footsteps.

Suddenly, a man is before us. He has an unearthly grace, and glows with a soft light. Caroline and I sink into curtsies, for this is a Noble before us, and probably a faerie.

A soft smile plays about his lips, and he invites us in. The room we enter is warm, and comfortable, and extremely beautiful. There are paintings that I only want to go up to and inspect, but this Lord before me has not given me permission, so I will not do so.

"Come now; tell me why you have come."

I start at the musical beauty of his voice, and begin to speak.

A few minutes later, he looks distraught, and bids us follow the Lady of the house to our rooms. He will search for a cure in his library and tell us of it in the morning. Caroline and I curtsy as he leaves the room.

As soon as he has gone, I look around the room. Where is the Lady? And then I see her, standing by the staircase.

Her beauty is unsurpassable, indescribable. I believe that if starlight had a physical form, it would look like her. The soft beauty of a waterfall, the stark awe creating beauty of a mountain, and the homeliness of a campfire are all captured in her slim form. The Lady turns, and begins to gracefully climb the stairs.

All too soon, we reached a large chamber, and the Lady spoke to us for the first and last time. "These are your rooms. Sleep well. And…remember."

Her voice is beautiful, like an orchestra, a harp, a song, and yet it contained the wild loneliness of a sole wolf howling to the moon. I was confused by her last sentence, though. Remember? Remember what? I shrug mentally, and set aside that fact to mull over at a later time. Right now, I just want to sleep.

~~~~England, October of 1349, the next day~~~~

I smile happily at Caroline as the sun rises. Right now, nothing seems impossible. I do not doubt that the Lord of this castle has found a cure. This balcony we sit on has such a view that it seems that if he can possess this beautiful place, he must somewhere possess the scrap of information necessary to make a cure.

I hear three sharp raps on the door, and whirl around, speaking as I do so. "Come in."

He enters, as gracefully as when he greeted us, but something seems wrong. His previously immaculate hair is disheveled, and his eyes look red. Somehow, he seems to be glowing far less than before. I have seen this look before, once, when I aided the village healer with a difficult birth. The woman had died, and the newborn child, and the man, who had loved her with his whole heart, did not survive the night, although we could not find anything physically wrong with him. The Lord of this castle looks at us sadly, and states "I have your cure."

This statement should have caused me joy, but I knew that he had something more to say. He had found a cure, but at what cost? "I have found your cure," he repeated "but before I give it to you, I have a history, that became legend, and myth, and should be remembered when I fade, to tell you"

"There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Illuvatar; and he made the first Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought…"

Hope you like it so far!

Review please!

The last line is taken from the Sillmarillion, and it belongs completely to Tolkien.


	2. A Mother's Love

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of The Rings, or any of the recognizable characters.

Author's Note: This is my first story, so please review. Also, some things I forgot to mention: This is a romance story, but not so much of a physical one as to what I always pictured Tolkien's idea of love in between elves.

Just so that you know, the Lord of the Castle has told the tale of the Silmarilion and the War of the Ring between this chapter and the last, so the listeners already know about elves, and their history. Also, although it may look like it will be here, this is not a 10th walker story.

Tol Galen- The island that Lúthien and Beren spent their last days living upon.

Chapter 2- **A Mother's Love**

~~~~Tol Galen~~~~

Lúthien Tinuviel stared at the stars, despondent. There was a gaping wound in her heart, where Beren had once lain. And now, his body, a shell of the great man he had once been, lay before her, growing cold. Once, she would have died as he did, taking her last rattling breath at the same moment as his, but now everything was different. Because before her was her infant daughter, who would certainly die without a caretaker. A tear slipped down Lúthien's cheek. She loved her daughter enormously, but it would not be enough to heal the wound in the mother's heart. Lúthien would leave her newborn child to the harshness of the cold world within the hour.

Desperate, and grief- stricken, Lúthien began to do the lone action that had always given her comfort; she began to sing. It was a lament, her song, sung to none but the empty husk of her husband, and her uncomprehending daughter. Luthien spoke of her love of her husband, and his kindness to all. She spoke of her regret that her daughter would never be able to dance under the stars, or find a lover of her own. And lastly, Lúthien sang of her own impeding death, and her regret that she would never see her home, or her son again.

But there was a third listener, one that Lúthien hadn't thought of. For the stars, enraptured by the beauty of the song, hung on her words, and so as Lúthien lay dying the Star- Kindler, Elbereth, fulfilled the elf's last wish, and carried her daughter across the sea.

~~~~Valinor, at the council of the Valar and the Valier, 14 years before the War of the Ring~~~~

"We need another hero, another crownless King, to step up." Everyone started at the sound of her voice, for Nienna sister of the Fëanturi rarely spoke. She rarely attended councils, for that matter, but today was special, important, for today they had finally seen the next twenty years. Once the vision that they had been shown at the beginning of time had ended, long ago, visions of the future came spontaneously, usually just before the event happened. The War of the Ring had already been discussed; there were an abundance of heroes willing to help with that quest. It was after this War that worried the Valar, for Melkor, with Sauron's aid, would break free of his confines in the void, and would return to Middle- Earth. Without divine intervention, he would meet no resistance in taking over the race of men.

"There will be no more heroes! We have been through this already! All will be here, in Valinor, or unknowing of what to do in the face of such a foe. They will have no ring, no easy way out!" Angrily, Oromë pounded on the table. As he was of the opinion that the Valar should ride in themselves and rid Middle- Earth of Melkor themselves, he found this talk of avatars and heroes aggravating.

"We could send one. A young one, it would need to be. Perhaps a child, who could learn of his or her destiny later, and could spend the next few years growing up, learning the ways of the men around him or her," Elbereth spoke quietly, almost inaudibly, but all listened, for her counsel was always valuable.

"It could work. But who would we send?" Yavanna queried.

Suddenly, a toddler entered, crawling along the ground at a formidable rate. Her nurse followed, trying desperately to keep up. "I apologize, my Lords and Ladies, for she has become most curious of late."

Manwë nodded, accepting the apology, but Elbereth bent down to pick up the small elven girl. Placing her hand on the tiny brow, Varda smiled. Her hand now glowed with a thin, silvery light. "She, the daughter of Lúthien, will do this task."

~~~~ Minas Tirith, lowest level, 14 years before the War of the Ring~~~~

It was a beautiful night. The stars shone in their entire cold splendor. On nights like tonight, the citizens of Gondor almost believed in elves again. On a night like tonight, anything could happen.

A woman hurried down a street, far from the comforting light of her home. The woman's cloak was far too thin for such a chilly night, and she didn't look up at the stars as she made her way home with a single-minded determination. Her head was bowed against a sharp breeze, and she was wondering whether or not she would need to buy new winter clothes for her husband.

She turned a dark corner, and almost tripped over the basket that had been in the street. Reaching down, the woman picked up the basket. She almost dropped it again in surprise when she realized that a toddler, about two years old, lay within the basket.

The woman turned around, and retraced her steps to where a torch lit up the road. She already had a daughter, but perhaps, if no one claimed this one, and she wasn't wearing anything identifying, the woman would bring this one up as her own as well.

Something glinted in the flickering torchlight, and the woman paused, and reached for the child's wrist. There, on the chubby young wrist, was a bracelet, engraved with the name Eldanna. The woman gasped softly, because that was an elvish name. Softly, as if dreading what she might find, the woman reached up towards the child's head, and parted the youthful curls of hair. Forgetting the cold, and the beautiful sky, the woman stared at the gently pointed ear adorning the young child's face.

Okay, I know that this chapter is probably very confusing, but I don't want to give too much away before the plot really starts moving.

Review please!


	3. Childhood

Disclaimer- I do not own any of Tolkien's works, nor do I claim to. All recognizable characters belong to Tolkien.

Author Note- Please, please, please review!!!

Special thanks to .michael for reviewing twice- she gave me my first and second reviews ever on this site.

Just to be clear, Eldanna is the name of the girl from the last chapter, Léofwyn is her adopted sister, Ohtar is her adopted father, and Déorhild is the woman from the end of the last chapter who is also her adopted mother. Eldanna calls her sister Leaf, and Léofwyn calls Eldanna Anna. Both of their names seemed too long for kids to casually use in their daily life.

Also, I'm not dead! I have whole list of excuses for taking so long: Finals, a broken finger, a whacko computer…

~~~~Minas Tirith, Lowest Circle, a few months later~~~~

It was a cold day, for this late in the year. On the stone walls, men performed their guard duties while rubbing their hands together to keep warm. In the shacks and huts that passed as homes the women were in constant motion, tending to the fire, the children, the cleaning, and supper, for the night quickly approached.

Near the outer wall, three cloaked figures hurried toward the home of the man who led. The structure they now approached had clearly once been a small, but cozy, house, but had over time fallen into a state of disrepair. While the home was fairly clean, the rotting beams that had begun to dip in their centers had not yet been replaced, and based on the knowledge that the two taller men had of the family's income, those beams wouldn't be replaced for quite some time.

The guide, who was also the owner of the more than slightly dilapidated house, pushed open the door, and winced in embarrassment as it squealed loudly in protest. His two companions quickly followed, blinking rapidly as their eyes adjusted to the gloom of the interior.

Inside, they could make out a woman stirring a pot of something over the fire. She looked up as the door squeaked, and narrowed her eyes at the two men trailing her husband suspiciously.

Ohtar strolled over to his wife, putting an arm around her and speaking to her gently, as he explained the situation. As he spoke, Déorhild's eyes widened, and she slipped into a curtsy, speaking in a calm and collected voice. "Welcome, my lords."

The taller of the two men, who had taken his cloak of by then, smiled gently, and replied. "Officially, we are not here. Officially, we are lords. Now, however, we are here unofficially, and are therefore solely Boromir and Faramir."

The shorter, and younger, of the two spoke then. "Your husband mentioned an elf child? We wished to see him or her, Lady…" Faramir trailed off, unsure of whether or not he should call her lady, or of her name.

"Déorhild. Just Déorhild. I am no Lady." Déorhild looked around her home, of which she had been proud not long ago. Suddenly, in the presence of these two descendants of Númenor, it seemed worthless, and she noticed anew the dirt that coated the floor, the sagging beams, and the hole in the knee of her husband's trousers.

Faramir, unsure of what to do in the sudden silence, made an observation. "That is not a Gondorian name."

Déorhild nodded, and spoke quickly. "I was born in Rohan, to Roharric parents. Our village was attacked when I was still young, and my mother and I fled to here to escape the orcs."

Boromir, clearly impatient with the small talk, interrupted. "I heard of an elfchild?"

Ohtar nodded, and stooped to pick up one of the toddlers playing by the failing light that entered through the one window.

She had dark hair, curly and thin in the way that the hair of many young ones is. The toddler snuggled into her adopted father, feeling safe in his arms.

Ohtar smiled happily at the young girl, and handed her to Faramir.

Déorhild spoke then. "This is Eldanna."

She looked at both men, both of whom were staring, fascinated, at the pointy ear now visible from within the toddler's hair. Though both had studied elvish lore, neither had met an elf before. Faramir whispered very gently "Gift of the Stars."

Husband and wife looked at the brothers quizzically, until Boromir explained. "Her name. It means Gift of the Stars, in elvish."

Faramir, who had been staring at the toddler in his own arms gasped softly as she opened her eyes. Eldanna's eyes a first glance appeared to be a beautiful greenish- bluish- grey color. After looking at them for a moment, however, Faramir noticed that her eyes were _moving_. Not because she was glancing around the room; rather, the colors in her eyes flickered, with spots of brightness here and there. Her eyes looked, Faramir mused, like an ocean lit by starlight. "Her eyes… have they always been like that?"

The girl's adopted parents nodded silently. They were both still clearly intimidated by the brothers.

Boromir, feeling left out because Faramir's arms had blocked his view of the child's, moved on to more practical matters. "What shall we do with her? Father can not be allowed to know of her, and you should not be forced to care for a child that you do not want." He did not mention it, but as he spoke, he was thinking of their lack of money, the home that needed repairs, and the costs of raising a daughter.

"I have always wanted another daughter. I had a sister, growing up. We were each other's other half, and without her, I do not think that I could ever have become who I am today. She died in the attack on my village, but I have never regretted knowing her. I wish this joy, and kinship of having a sister, for my own daughter. And so, we, with your permission, will raise her, and tell her of her heritage when the time is right." Déorhild stared the brothers down, daring them to criticize her or her speech.

Boromir and Faramir, surprised at this outburst, backed down, and agreed to the fierce mother's right to protect her adopted daughter.

"By your leave, Lady, we shall return to our home now, for our father will be missing us. May prosperity and peace forever grace your home." Faramir turned with this, and silently stepped out into the chilly darkness.

~~~~Minas Tirith, Lowest Circle ~~~~

"Shhh! They're gonna hear you, Anna!" The five-year-old fiddled with her long blonde hair as her thinner, darker, and more agile sister climbed the dresser to reach the items that had purposefully been placed out of her reach, at the top.

The climber disappeared from her sister's sight, and a whisper came down to her ears. "I've got it, Leaf! Catch!

Two knives, possessions of the girls' father, tumbled to the floor, followed by his helmet, and his decorated cloak. Anna attempted to toss down his long sword, but decided that it was far too heavy. "Coming, Leaf!"

Ana leapt lightly off of the top of the dresser.

Leaf at first tried to wear the helmet, but it was so heavy that she couldn't stand up straight. She handed it over to her sister, who agreed that it was too heavy, and discarded it. Leaf then tied the cloak around her shoulders. It was so long that it trailed along the ground for a longer distance than she was tall, but she wore it anyway. Both girls bent down and grabbed one of the knives in their pudgy child's fists.

The two girls rushed into the entrance room, swinging their knives at the level of the knees of the adults.

Déorhild and Ohtar had been arguing with the wealthy man who owned almost every other home on the block. He had been renting these shacks that passed for houses out to several families, and making a great deal of money. Now, he had turned his sights on this home, one of the largest in this area. The girls had seen that their father was angry with this man, and as their father was always right, in their eyes, the stranger was an enemy from one of the tales of old that their mother had told them.

Léofwyn was quickly caught as her father reached out his right arm to snag her shirt. Eldanna, however, managed to dance around his outstretched arm, and reached the knee of the intruder. "For 'ustice!" she cried out, as she plunged her knife through the air at him. Because Eldanna had never wielded a knife before, she misjudged the distance between her body and the tree-like leg, and found herself off balance and falling before her knife touched anyone. As she fell, her knife did reach the intruders leg, and gave him a small and rather insignificant scratch.

"Oww! That hurt! How dare you injure me!" he cried angrily. Angry, that is, until he looked down and saw that not even an entire drop of blood had oozed out of the miniscule cut. Anger quickly turned to embarrassment, and he nodded at the two residents of the home as he backed out the door. "I guess I'll be leaving now…"

He never returned.

~~~~Minas Tirith, Lower Circle ~~~~

In the shadows cast by a dying fire, two children, one with bright blond hair, and the other with brown, almost black, hair, slept peacefully. The children looked to be about seven years old, and if one peered closely at the darker one's ears one could see a faint point at their tips.

Closer to the flickering flames, a man and a woman sat, speaking softly to each other.

Déorhild was worried; what she had feared for the past five years had come to pass. "She asked me about her ears to-day," Déorhild mused, worried about her adopted daughter's future.

"What did you tell her?" Ohtar's deep, rumbling voice comforted his wife, but she was still distressed.

"I told her that her ears, like my blue eyes, are passed from parent to child. She believed me, I think, but there will come a time when she will want more information. She is a curious child."

"I know. We will tell her when the time is right." Ohtar sighed gustily; worry for the girl who slept so peacefully gnawing at is heart. "We will give her the bracelet then, too."

"She knows the stories of the elves of old, at least, though I doubt she believes them." Déorhild spoke her thoughts aloud, as she tried to envision how she would tell her children of her daughter's heritage, and their parent's deception.

"I fear that she will forever wander Middle Earth, searching for kin that have been long dead. She will search, I know, for her spirit would desire it, but perhaps we can give her joy to remember then, so that she will occasionally enjoy he small things in life." Déorhild, tired after from her speech and the worry that she felt began to cry, silently, for the fate of her adopted daughter, and that of the elves of Middle- Earth. Her husband held her, and they remained like that for a long time.

~~~~Minas Tirith, Lowest Circle~~~~

It was a clear day, with the sky shining a brilliant blue. The chilly wind carried with it a reminder of the cold to come as well as brightly colored fallen leaves. In the corner of one of the many stone squares that dotted the city two girls, both of whom looked to be about ten years old, were whirling in a dance that could turn deadly if either missed a beat, exchanging blows at an unbelievable speed. They had become somewhat of a marvel to many residents of the lower circle, for their father was one of the best with a blade, and yet his two daughters had both outstripped him within a few years. Always, however, it had been clear that the dark haired daughter, Eldanna, was the better of the two, and even now she had the upper hand.

"All right! You beat me, again! I give up!" Léofwyn had put down her long sword, and was wiping the sweat out of her eyes. Her sister smirked, and sheathed her two knives.

No one knew why she had chosen that particular weapon; it was an uncommon choice, and her father, who had taught the two children to fight, didn't know how to fight with two blades at once.

Eldanna had instead learned from a friend of her fathers, and when he had died in battle she had received the blades for herself.

"What two girls doing alone? And with blades? What is going on here! I demand to know!" The two girls glanced up, startled. They had thought themselves to be alone, and were surprised by this rather harsh voice's intrusion.

Speaking was one of the "young lords," as they were contemptuously called. They, too, resided in the lower circle, but their parents were usually at least middle class and rich by comparison to those surrounding them. These children found themselves pampered, and grew up to be spoilt and cruel.

This specific one couldn't have been more than two or three winters the girls' elder, but he clearly felt himself far their superior.

"I asked what was going on here!" His voice had by now grown shrill, but one of those hired by his parents to intervene in such situations quickly intercepted before a scene was caused.

"My Lord. I believe that these two girls have been sparring in order to practice their fighting techniques."

The two sisters rolled their eyes at each other. What did it look like they had been doing?

"It is improper for girls to fight. They should not be allowed to hold such dangerous things as swords." The boy replied pompously.

The sisters, now offended, turned to glare openly at this pompous boy.

"I agree, my Lord. You are completely correct." The same servant spoke as before.

"Get them out of my sight!"

The servant nodded, and approached the sisters. He spoke in a low voice. "I apologize, but would you please practice elsewhere? Thank you."

The girls turned around and began the short walk home. It was about time that they left anyway.

That night, as the Eldanna, Léofwyn, and Déorhild washed the dishes after supper, Eldanna voiced a question that had been gnawing on her heart since the encounter earlier that day. "Mama? Why did father teach us to fight? It is not as if we will be allowed to join the guards."

Déorhild sighed. "Let me tell you a story from my childhood." Both children turned their eyes to their mother, curious as to what she had to tell. She always spoke little of her past, and changed the subject when the topic was brought up.

"You know that I had a sister, a mother, a brother, and a father. When I was a little older than you are now, orcs attacked our village. My father and my brother stayed to fight, and sent me, along with my sister and mother, to a nearby village. We didn't hear them until it was too late, and a small group of orcs came upon us. There were only three of them, but none of us knew how to fight, so we turned and fled. When they took my sister, we had no choice but to abandon her. I couldn't help thinking that if I knew how to fight, I could have saved her. She could still be alive. So, when I came to Minas Tirith, I learned how to wield a sword, and now you, too, can defend yourself and the ones you love. That is why we fight."

Minas Tirith, Lowest Circle~~~~

It was the hottest day of the year so far, and the people of Minas Tirith moved about their daily chores with single minded sluggishness. The guards, who constantly patrolled the walls, were sweating profusely underneath their heavy armor. By the time the sun was fully visible over the walls twelve guards had collapsed from overheating and dehydration.

Although the walls became torturous for the guards, trapped in their armor, many children of the lowest circle felt themselves drawn to this outer limit of the city. Children sat along the wall, waiting for the smallest hint of a breeze. Finally, one guard looked at the situation and came up with a brilliant solution to the guards who were falling over like nine pins. The guards who had money to spare paid the children a penny to fetch them water. The children, glad to help their families put bread on the table, leapt at the prospect of money, and the guards stopped collapsing as often. Before long most of the wells in the lower circle had a child r two at them, pulling up water, and bringing it to the guards.

At one particular well, Eldanna was tiredly filling three water flasks. She was exhausted, covered in sweat, and wanted only to collapse in the shade and fall asleep, and yet she kept moving. She continued to bring the water to the three guards who had paid her a penny each that morning, and had promised to do so again before dinner if she continued fetching water. Every time she wanted to stop, or slow down, Eldanna would think of her mother's face when she brought home the extra, much needed, coins. As she poured the water into the flasks, a bit splashed over the side, and suddenly Eldanna felt better. But only moments later, the icy cold refreshing water that had spilled in her palm was gone, drunken by the parched summer air. Eldanna bit her lip determinedly, and slowly began to jog back towards the wall.

Thud. A large rock landed on the road, only inches from Eldanna's aching feet.

"What are you doing here, Witch?" a boy called out from the shade at the entrance to his house.

"Yeah, we don't want you here." His brother added.

"Go back to wherever you came from." The first boy piped up again.

Eldanna turned her tired eyes to these aggressors.

"Your magic tricks don't work on us!" an even smaller brother called out from behind his brothers.

The middle boy elbowed the taller one, who was evidently the leader, "Look, she's carrying water. Ya think she has some coins?"

The tallest boy nodded slowly, attempting to appear old and wise, "Give us your coins and we will let you pass unharmed."

The veil of weariness was suddenly lifted from Eldanna's body, torn away by anger. Her eyes flashed, and the ever present ocean in their depths turned stormy and gray. They were her coins, the fruits of her labor. Eldanna, suddenly furious, reached into her pocket and clenched her fist around the three pennies. No longer caring if a fight ensued, and knowing that she would win, she strode on towards the wall.

The brothers, at a nod from the oldest, ran up behind her, ready to grab the coins from her pocket, or, if necessary, help hold her down while their oldest brother wrested the coins from her grip. Just as they were almost upon her, Eldanna spun, placed the water flasks carefully on the ground, and glared at the approaching boys.

Eldanna, despite being hampered by her dress and her exhaustion, moved far more quickly than any of her attackers, and quickly found herself with the upper hand. None of the boys really wanted to harm her, and all but the tallest slunk off after a moment. The two opponents traded blows at a frenzied speed, only stopping when Eldanna spun out of reach of a hard kick, and he, off balance and weary, found himself to be lying in the dirt. Eldanna, feeling proud, picked up her water flasks, and strode off.

It was only as she walked home for dinner that night that she noticed that her pocket had been torn open, and that all of the coins that she had earned that day were spilled somewhere in Minas Tirith.

"What happened, Anna?" Léofwyn asked concern for her sister evident in her voice.

Eldanna silently considered how to respond. She could tell the truth, of course, but they were all so tired, so worried, and she didn't want to burden her family any more. She loved them too much to trust them. Eldanna chose her words carefully, answering, "I fell, around noon. I was walking, and sweat dripped into my eye. I tripped over a bump in the road, and the coins that I earned fell out of my pocket as it ripped. I also hit my cheek on something." Eldanna motioned to the cut on her cheek that had caused her sister's concern.

Léofwyn nodded, accepting the answer as plausible. Ohtar, Déorhild, and Léofwyn turned back to their meals, their human minds already beginning to forget that this conversation had ever taken place. The dark haired daughter, however, never forgot the easiness of lying.

~~~~ Minas Tirith, Lowest Circle~~~~

"I wonder who else is watching the stars tonight, Anna." Léofwyn spoke softly, musing as she stared at the stars glimmering over head.

"I don't know. Maybe that boy up the street that you were watching today." Eldanna responded softly, with laughter in her voice.

Léofwyn, laughing, elbowed her sister. "But seriously, Anna. Think about it. Somewhere in Rohan, people are probably laying, staring at the same stars same as we are. Maybe someone in the highest circle of Minas Tirith the Steward is looking at the stars, wondering why his people dislike him so much." Both girls giggled at the latest image.

Laughing, Eldanna continued where her sister had left off. "And the long lost king of Gondor is staring at the stars, pining for my ridiculous sister although he never has seen her."

"And he'll come riding into Gondor and make me Queen of men!" Léofwyn responded, laughing.

"And while you are busy being a Queen of Men, I will be off finding the elves, and will marry their prince, of course!"

Both girls laughed at this ridiculously impossible picture. Elves didn't exist, the King's line was long dead, and even if they lived they didn't marry commoners. Both girls knew that they would never leave the stone city that was their home, and their prison.

~~~~Minas Tirith, a month before the Siege of Gondor~~~~

The weather was fitting that day. The skies mourned, it seemed, for the young boy as much as those sobbing in the graveyard did. Rain that should have been wholesome was full of soot from the factories of Mordor. The ground beneath the mourners' feet was quickly turning to mud, but none seemed to notice.

Death, despite being hated and feared, was a constant in people's lives, and inescapable in this world of men, but the death of one so young seemed cruel. He had been old enough for the world to love him for who he was, but young enough to have such a long life ahead of him.

The family of four stood, tears streaming down their faces. They had known the young child well; and his constant enthusiasm had cheered them on many rainy days.

There was no body to be buried; it had been burned along with the home of his family in order to prevent spreading of whatever disease had killed him off so quickly. Instead, the family was burying a box full of memories, toys, and other objects that symbolized his love of life.

The family of the boy began to shovel dirt into his grave, sobs wracking their frames. With every thud of the dirt on the coffin that held only memories, Eldanna felt as if someone was hitting her. She should be crying, sobbing for his death. She owed it to the young ever smiling child. And yet, no tears would leak down her cheeks. She couldn't cry for him, couldn't bring herself to shed a tear even when she realized that his laughter would never echo in the streets again. She wanted to cry, to be like those around her, to honor his memory with tears, but none would come. Her eyes were dry, but her heart still mourned.

The boy's older sister threw in a shovel full of dirt, the last before the box was covered. As the dirt thudded into the ground, Léofwyn began to cough violently into her hand. When she finally straightened up, there were spots of blood on her palm.

7


	4. Ashes

Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, and if I did I wouldn't be writing this.  
Author's note: I have several things to say here. First, I want to tell you that this is not a happy chapter. Eldanna doesn't have the happiest life or happiest story. Also, I want to warn readers that although I do occasionally write happy endings, there are no guarantees.

Fire laced through the delicate stone structures of the city. Men cried out as their lives were extinguished. Horses screamed in fury at the indignity of dying in a stone city instead of on lush fields of grass. Children sobbed as their beloved homes turned into their funeral piers. And louder than anything, Léofwyn coughed.  
She had been sick since that mournful day a week ago, and though she was strong and her family believed that she would overcome it, she became sicker and sicker under this dark, sunless sky. Now she was frail and thin, a mere shadow of the lively person she had been before.  
Déorhild paced, worry for her husband creasing her brow. At every shout, every yell from outside, she seemed to visible shake in fear for her beloved husband who now fought for his country, his home. Looking at her sword that lay against the wall beside Léofwyn, she seemed to make up her mind, and she spoke. "I must go to him. I am sorry, daughters, that I cannot stay here to protect you. But I must protect him. I must."  
The two sisters nodded, for they both understood her frustration at being stuck in this home that was now a cage while her husband fought for his life. They, too, felt cramped in this small room, when they should be fighting for their country, their families.  
Déorhild approached the two sisters, and hugged Léofwyn frail frame tightly, whispering to her that she loved her, that Léofwyn must get better. Déorhild then turned to her adopted daughter, and held her in a tight embrace. "Keep her safe, Eldanna. Protect her. Promise me... Promise me." Her voice broke with emotion on the last words. She could not be there for her daughters right now. But they could be there for each other.  
"I will." Eldanna answered, her voice tight with unspoken emotion. ""I promise." That was the first promise that she made and broke that day.

Déorhild left the room, looking back only once at the doorway to speak her last words to her daughters. "I love you both. No matter what happens, never forget that."

Once she was out of hearing range, the two sisters turned to each other conspiratorially. "Go, Eldanna. Make sure that she returns."

Eldanna looked at her sister, uncertainty evident on her features. "But I promised her..."

Léofwyn interrupted, speaking more harshly than she meant to. "because you had to for her piece of mind. Go, and make sure that when you come back, we aren't orphans."

Eldanna was fighting within herself; to go and perhaps save her parents, or to stay and help her sister. A large crashing sound and the ensuing screams mane up Eldanna's mind. Her sister was strong; the illness wouldn't worsen dramatically in the next day. Leaning down, she kissed her sister on the forehead. "I promise. I'll bring them back to you." That promise, too, would be broken.

Léofwyn, suddenly realizing that she might never see her sister again, called out to the retreating figure. "I love you, sister."

Eldanna turned back, and gave her sister a soft, sad smile, before turning away to the approaching battle.

Eldanna later remembered the sights of the battle only in brief images; instead it was the smells that most ingrained themselves in her memory, and the sounds. She always remembered the sweet, sickening smell of rotting flesh, permeating the air so strongly that all other smells seemed like undertones, sharps and flats barely altering a strong, overpowering note.

In her mind the battle was a series of blurs, sounds of metal on metal, shrieks, a few sharp images, and the mechanical movements of her arms.

A man crushed by the desperate feet of his people. Her first glimpse of her mother, her hair swirling, desperately trying to stay alive and reach a certain point that Eldanna couldn't see. Her father, the object of her mother's gaze, wounded, but fighting still with his left arm. The large orc, hewing her father down uncaring of what he destroyed, the life that ended. Her mother, in grief and shock, dropping her blade, dying knowing that she would join him. After that, the battle was a series of blurred opponents, mechanical movements, and a putrefying stench. Eldanna couldn't feel, couldn't process what she had seen. She knew, in her mind, that she was, once again, an orphan, but she kept catching herself thinking of doctors that her father hadn't gone to and found to be too expensive, thinking to herself that he could go that night while her mother cooked dinner, and then she remembered the orc, the pain on her mother's face.

Eventually, the orcs stopped replacing each other so promptly, and the city began to rid herself of the foul infestation. Once Eldanna had decided that it was time to return to her sister, she lowered her blades, and walked slowly in the direction of her home. She was exhausted, as she began to realize. Before, during the battle, adrenaline had rushed through her veins, but now she just felt exhausted.

As Eldanna walked, she noticed a man, dead, lying in the road, dressed in rich clothes. She was going to walk past him, but a thought occurred to her and she knelt, her long, nimble fingers feeling along the man's belt. Finally, she found his wallet, heavy with coins, and straightened up. Eldanna knew that her sister and she would need the coins more than this dead man.

Eldanna almost walked past her house. She was almost past it when she realized that that burned out shell was her home, the place she had lived for as long as she could remember. All that remained was ashes. Eldanna's first thought was for her sister. She ran through the house, shouting her name. No one answered. Eldanna came to the place where Léofwyn had been lying earlier that day. All that remained was ashes.

Eldanna screamed her fury at the gods, but no one responded. She was totally, completely alone.

Eldanna looked around, carefully searching the ashes, hoping that somehow her sister would be just outside of her sight, to her right, to her left.

Something glinted in the black ashes. Eldanna, curious, pulled it out. It was a bracelet, with her name engraved on it. She slipped it onto her wrist before turning back to where Léofwyn had been that morning, should have been now.

And so Eldanna knelt, bloodstained but not injured physically, clutching a silver bracelet in her white knuckles, desperately wishing that she could cry.


	5. Beyond the Void

Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR

A/N: This is a really short chapter, so I'm posting it on the same day as the last one. Also, it's from an unusual point of view.

Sauron watched, amused, as the two short creatures pulled each other up the mountain. So much hard work, for no reason. He would be destroyed, but it didn't matter. Sauron's goal would be achieved, no matter what.

The Halflings stood before the fire, and Sauron waited, annoyed at the delay. He had waited so long for this moment.

Eventually, the ring fell. Sauron watched the descent carefully; timing was of the essence.

As soon as the ring hit the magma, he began to chant a spell. He had a few seconds, no more, no less, before the ring dissolved, and this was the only possible problem with his plan.

Just as the ring disappeared, the spell was finished.

And so, Sauron was destroyed, his tower cast down. But even as the victors celebrated a victory, a greater evil seeped into the world from beyond the void…


	6. Ghosts of the Past

**I KNOW that its a really short chapter, but I wasn't even originally going to write it. Its all Elemarth's fault, I swear! Just kidding. Thanks Elemarth, and I looked back and I agree that this chapter is necasary. The last bit was hard to write because I don't think like that, so I hope it is believable. Please review!**

If anyone had walked past the stone, they would have registered it as grey and walked past. Eldanna, however, had decided that the stone was most definatly not gray.

Eldanna sat, crosslegged, her back against the backside of a house, staring at the wall. She traced a black vein in the rock with her eyes, counting the branchings. Eight. She followed the top branch. Six branches. After a few moments, Eldanna's head began to hurt from remembering all of these numbers, and she gave up.

Instead, Eldanna studied the tiny white quartz crystals embedded in the stone. She began to count hem, starting in the upper left corner. One, two, three... At sixty Eldanna noticed the rain. The stone was darker, accenting the white spots even more, and she grinned idiotically at the increased ease in her self imposed task. She paused to think about the rain for a minute, lost her place on the rock, and decided that she was cold, but wasn't going to do anything about it.

Some part of Eldanna's mind kept repeating that she needed to study the rock, to keep studying it, because if she didn't something would happen, something would be remembered. And so Eldanna stared at the rock, trying to hide from the thoughts, the memories that were rising to the surface, the past that she couldn't escape.

Eldanna was staring at the rock, but this time, she couldn't see it. She wasn't awake or asleep, hungry or full, comfortable or uncomfortable. She just was numb. Gradually, the thoughts that she had grown to hate began to grow again, and Eldanna shifted her position, slowly.

The retrn to reality, the relinquishing of blessed numbness, only meant overwhelming pain. Eldanna knew that the sole reason that she survived with her mind intact was the numbness. Each day she sat here, studied the wall, and forcefully attempted to still her thoughts. But it so rarely worked, and Eldanna could feel her sanity disintigrating.

How long before she joined them, the dead people of her childhood? That place, childhood, seemed to be a different planet, a different time, completely unrelated to here, to now, to the waves of pain that threatened to overwhelm Eldanna.

Slowly, silently, Eldanna lifted her knife up until it touched her nose. She contemplated the blade. Eldanna had always been logical, had always looked at all options, but now, no matter how she looked at it, the blade was the better option.

The cold, hard metal still had stains of blood from the battle- Eldanna paused in pain at the thought of that terrible day- and Eldanna wondered briefly if someone else grieved like her for someone whose lifeblood had been spilled by the blade. The pain forced her to put the thought aside, and she returned to her original line of thought.

Life is a gift, and like a gift, the receiver should have the power to refuse it, Eldanna reasoned. If she didn't have a choice, life was- is- a curse. If she did this thing, she would forever experience the best condition she could imagine at that moment- numbness.

Eldanna manuevered the blade into the best possible position for its task. Eldanna paused to say farewell to the world that she had loved but could no longer bare to live in.

Suddenly, she saw Leofwyn in her mind's eye, and she knew that if their positions had been switched, Leofwyn would not do this thing. "But she is stronger than me!" Eldanna spoke aloud.

Her mother replaced Leofwyn, and Eldanna remembered that Deorhild had once been in a similar position to Eldanna's current one. A snide voice in the back of her head answered that Deorhild had had her mother, that conditions had been different.

She heard her father's voice then, laughing, telling her that voices in her head are the first sign of madness. Strangely, Eldanna felt the sudden urge to laugh.

Eldanna silently made a pact with the ghosts of her past- she would not kill herself, but if another event inerfered, she would do nothing to stop her own death.

After a few moments, Eldanna glanced back at the stone, and turned away from it. She would return to the grey stone that was not grey some other day to grieve, but today, now, she would live because she had no choice. She would live, and she would never forget.


	7. Wedding Guilt

**Hi everyone!!!**

**I suppose someone must like this story if you are reading this, but nobody is reviewing. :( **

**Okay, some people are reviewing, but not very many.**

**If I get more reviews, I'll update sooner. I promise. Come on, they only take five minutes to write.**

**I'm sorry that this chapter is short- the next one will be longer.**

**R&R! (Read and Review!)**

It was, quite simply, a beautiful day. The sweet scent of flowers permeated the city, thanks to the Queen's people who had brought life to the stone city a mere one day after their arrival. Because of the presence of these mystical beings in the city, flowers bloomed when heat should have killed them off months ago.

Around the courtyard gathered an enormous crowd. Every one of them longed for a glimpse of their new Queen. She had arrived the day before, with her father and his household, and already rumors were circulating. Some even said, bizarrely, that she was an elf, but few believed them. Most people agreed that she, their future Queen, was the daughter of some northern lord. Everyone agreed that she was beautiful.

Watching the wedding was most of Minas Tirith's population, dignitaries from other nations, the Queen's father's household, and, of course, the members of the Fellowship of the Ring. From the rooftops surrounding the square, the orphans of Minas Tirith watched the wedding with the curious indifference of those who know that the events unfolding will make history books, but that they will not affect their own lives.

Eldanna was sitting on a flat rooftop, watching the proceedings from her bird's eye point of view. Like those around her, Eldanna gasped at the future queen's beauty when it was suddenly revealed, smiled at the joyful expression on her king's face.

But, unlike those around her, Eldanna's joy was pervaded by a sense of guilt. When Eldanna watched the richly dressed nobles, she couldn't help thinking that Léofwyn should be here, watching, because Léofwyn had believed. Always, Léofwyn had believed that the King would return. She had never been clear on how, but she had always believed in this man who had never heard of her, never would. Léofwyn would never feel the joy at being right, the satisfaction in believing correctly in an uncrowned King. Léofwyn would never see the king that she had believed in, and it was Eldanna's fault.

To Eldanna's left, a boy stirred. He looked to be about twelve, although Eldanna couldn't be positive. Dareth looked up at Eldanna quickly, before returning his attention to the proceedings. Eldanna had met him only a few days after...Eldanna refused to think of it. She had met him after.

It had been night, and Eldanna had been huddled underneath a small, thin, threadbare cloak that she had stolen. Her stomach was empty because she hadn't eaten all day. And then she had heard the sobbing. At first she had ignored it, hoping that someone else would attend to the pained person, but it had eventually become evident that no one else had noticed, or cared. And so Eldanna had crept silently through the night, her curiosity compelling her to find the origin of the sound.

She had found this boy, Dareth, then, crying for his lost home, lost father. She had sat with him, comforted him, and when the tears had dried, he had told her about his life, his family, what he had lost. He had never known his mother; she had died in childbirth, an all too common occurrence in Minas Tirith's poorest districts.

Every night since then they had met, shared their food, and huddled together for warmth. He had awoken some previously dormant mothering instinct within Eldanna, and began to heal her damaged heart. Perhaps more importantly, he gave her hope, and purpose. Dareth's father had trained horses, and had taught his son how. Somehow, there had to be a way to find work for him, a way to live legally, not as one of the legions of pickpockets in Minas Tirith's poorest neighborhoods. Eldanna could no longer let herself waste away. And now she had to watch this ceremony and hide her pain and guilt because of the boy beside her, who was her brother as Léofwyn was her sister.

**Do you see that little button? You know you want to push it. You really do. Just trust me. Push the button and write a review. Its really not hard.**


	8. To Die Another Day

**I'm really sorry that this is so late- both my beta and I have been pressured for time with the start of the new school year. You really don't want to hear all my excuses, so I won't tell you. The next chapter will be forthcoming, at least- its done, just waiting to be edited.**

The night was dark, unlit by the silvery light of the moon. Eldanna loped at an easy pace through the shadows, unseen and unheard by everyone. As she ran, Eldanna studiously ignored the pain in the heel of her right foot. The sole of her thin shoes had worn away, and now there was a hole, large for the uneven streets to cut the thickly callused skin through.

As Eldanna reached her destination, she slowed her pace to a walk, and tore the loaf of bread in her hands in two. "Dareth?" she called out, softly.  
He answered in the same volume, speaking inn almost a whisper. "I'm here"  
She nodded, knowing that it was a futile gesture in the dark, as she located his shape by the nearly nonexistent light of the stars.  
She sat against him, for warmth because the nights had begun to be chilly again, and handed him half of her loaf of bread.  
"Good day?" he asked, his mouth full of the bread she had handed him.  
Eldanna shrugged, and then, remembering once again that he couldn't see her, spoke. "It was okay. You know the old baker next to that carpenter who throws things at people?"

"Yes."

"He left his place unattended except by that unexperienced apprentice who can't hold a sword for fear of cutting himself, let alone wield one. The room was more crowded than it is the day before a feast. most didn't get any."  
Dareth grinned, and answered "But you did. I had a good day."  
"What happened?"  
Dareth smiled, and handed her three copper coins, his week's pay for his job sweeping stalls at the stables that housed horses for renting. She slipped the coins into a thin pouch at her neck, saving for a harsher day. He then handed her a small, thin piece of wood and a piece of cloth to cover it.  
Eldanna grinned, and slipped it into her shoe. "Thanks."  
Dareth smiled, "I'm getting tired. Good night."  
"Good night."  
Dareth dropped of to sleep within a few moments, his head on her shoulder, while Eldanna sat, thinking. This was her least favorite time of day, when the ghosts of the past returned to haunt her. She would sit here, until exhaustion took, her, and nightmares would pervade her sleep. The next day, she would awake, with only another night to look forward to. During the day she hid her pain for Dareth, but now, with him asleep, Eldanna was alone with her mother's face at the end, her father's, her own promises, Léofwyn as Eldanna had last seen her.  
And then, Eldanna would wish again that she could cry.

Anger boiled in Eldanna's veins as she silently slipped through the shadows in Minas Tirith's lowest circle. She was frustrated, too, and if she had been a less controlled person, she would have yelled to the stars from rage directed at herself and the girl, Ivorwen.  
Eldanna suddenly saw the alley that led to the place that she slept, and turned down it, and turned down another to find Dareth sitting, waiting for her. When he saw her face, he jumped up, grabbed the threadbare blanket that they had stolen long ago, and flipped her the coin that had, doubtlessly, resided in the purse of a more fortunate man not too long ago.  
As the two of them ran through the alleys of Minas Tirith, and the dark roads that no one else would take unless they were drunk, Eldanna began to explain their predicament.  
"As you know, the owner of the new bakery saw me a week ago. It wouldn't be a problem except that he is new enough to be angry and offended. The old ones all try and protect their goods, but if it doesn't work, there's nothing they can do. This one, however, put out a reward for whoever could lead him to me. I thought that it had died down, but I kept an eye on him. Who knows where we sleep?"  
Dareth, angry, spoke her name like a curse word. "Ivorwen." She was another orphan, living on the streets, and Eldanna had seen no reason to hide from her. If Ivorwen tried to steal bread, Eldanna could beat her, and Ivorwen, a pickpocket and orphan herself, wasn't likely to be within a quarter mile of a guard, let alone alerting one to Eldanna and Dareth's presence.  
Eldanna nodded as she ran, and the two of them ran in silence, with their only their thoughts for company.  
Eldanna, mulling over the events of that day, realized with surprise that she didn't, couldn't, hate Ivorwen. And then she realized why. Ivorwen was, perhaps always would be, fighting for her survival. And then Eldanna realized that if their positions had been reversed, she would have done the same thing without a thought. And Eldanna resolved to trust no one. No matter how kind they appeared, how trustworthy, she would not trust them. It was the only way to survive. And that, survival, was all that mattered.

Eldanna stood in the shadows, unnoticed, her practiced eye darting from person to person. She kept her gaze closely on the one guard on this street, a nervous looking young man, clearly uncomfortable with his responsibilitiesand the sword that hung limply at his side. He would pose no threat, if a fight broke out. Suddenly, Eldanna saw a target, an unguarded purse. She grinned before diving into the stream of swiftly moving people.  
Just before she reached her target, Eldanna was held back by a sudden sense of foreboding. If her years on the streets had taught her anything, it was to trust her instincts. She stopped in her tracks, and the crowd parted and moved around her. Her first thought was to look for the guard, buthe hadn't moved. Her second was for Dareth.  
She set off at a run, winding through dark alleyways, her thoughts racing faster than her feet. She had told him not to go back to that courtyard; he had been there the day before yesterday, but he had insisted. It was too likely that someone saw him, recognized him as a thief.  
When she arrived, Eldanna saw Dareth almost immediately. He was sitting quietly, not moving, watching a pedestrian with a large, unguarded purse. For a moment, Eldanna considered turning around. And then she saw him.  
A guard had come down one of the side streets, and was watching Dareth with an inquisitive, predatory look on his face. Eldanna wanted to yell out, but it was too late. He moved toward the man with the purse, as the guard approached, grabbing his wrist at the last second.  
Dareth stopped, and looked up at the guard in fright.  
Just then, Eldanna strode over. "Dareth!"  
He looked up at her, his gaze afraid, and angry that she, too, was caught now.  
"I've been looking for you all over! Mama says to come home now. Papa's having company over, you need to come clean up!"  
Eldanna turned to the guard, as if she had just noticing him. "I'm sorry, Sir, if my brother here was bothering you. He can be quite a bother at times."  
The guard, taken aback, shook his head.  
Eldanna smiled sweetly at him, and led Dareth out of the courtyard by the hand, admonishing his tardiness.  
A few moments later, the two of them burst into laughter, and as the giggles died down, Eldanna spoke, softly, "So we live to die another day."

**Everything changes after this- this is the end of the introduction.**


	9. Don't Look Back

**I'm sorry this took so long- my internet was down.**

**Eldanna and Dareth are NOT related, although she calls him brother. He is like a youner brother to her that's where the term comes from.**

**Italics are flashbacks.**

**Thanks to my one and only reviewer for the last chapter!**

**Oh yes, I almost forgot, this chapter is my first cliffie. I'm surprised it took me this long.**

**Without further ado, here is the next chapter.**

Eldanna sat, silently, watching the crowded square, the people arguing over prices of the wares, a predator bird motionlessly watching a stream before striking with a lightning fast motion. A woman approached and asked about the vegetables in the front of the stand that Eldanna was supposed to be working at, and Eldanna deferred to the older boy at her left. What was his name again? She didn't care.

All that she knew was that a farmer had promised her a few coins if she would watch help his son watch his stand while he bought some needed supplies elsewhere. She had agreed, her stomach rumbling, feeling complimented because he trusted her. The latter feeling dissipated when he warned her that the smith on the right and his son would be watching, wary of any stealing.

Stronger than any feeling of hunger was a terrible sensation of emptiness, of the world around her not mattering, of her actions not changing anything. The terrible realization that if she died, no one would know, or care, or perhaps even remember. The world would be as if she had never lived, never dreamed, never sacrificed and suffered. No matter what she did, nothing changed, and Eldanna could do nothing about it.

Eldanna looked back at the food in front of her. She should steal it, but she didn't care. After not eating for two days, hunger alone should push her to steal. But it didn't. Her personal feeling, her discomfort, had long ago ceased to matter. And now reason that she had kept herself alive for these past two years was now well on his way to Rohan...

_Dareth slipped through the crowd with the ease of one born on the streets. He grinned, laughter in his eyes, as he shouted her name, "Eldanna! Where are you? Eldanna!"_

_Eldanna smiled, disentangled herself from the dark shadows that had protected her from unwelcome eyes, and strode towards her brother._

_He pulled her into an unexpected embrace, and Eldanna bemusedly returned the gesture. "Dareth?" she asked, confusion in her voice._

_Dareth looked up with his large, soulful blue eyes, and started to speak._

_"I was in that courtyard, you know, the one by the stables that some of the nobles use when a man came up to me and asked if I could show him where he could sell a few of his horses. The one he was riding was nice enough, but had nothing on the ones at the stables that he was headed at."_

_A touch of pride entered Dareth's voice, and he continued, "I told him so, and I showed him a place where he could get a good price. He said that he was in need of a smart lad to help him out back home, that he was getting too old and needed an extra pair of hands. Something like that. I said that I'd talk to my parents, and that they'd meet him at the lowest gate tomorrow morning to talk.'_

_Suddenly nervous, Dareth fidgeted as he looked up into her face, "Eldanna? That was okay, right? Not telling him that my parents have been gone so long?"_

_Eldanna pulled him close, and nodded her head reassuringly, a twinge of sadness that she could not hide coloring her voice, "Yes, Dareth. It doesn't matter that you didn't tell him."_

_The two of them spoke for a while in the relative safety of a low overhang, and Dareth told her about the man, and his hopes and fears, well into the night. _

_Eldanna waited until his breathing became regular and slow before she let her mask slip, and her face crumpled in pain._

_A drunken man, later that night, heard a soft voice that he latter would attribute to delirium, sighing on the wind, "Why? Why must everyone leave me? I'm so afraid, Léofwyn, so afraid of dying alone."_

_The sun rose the next day to find Eldanna and Dareth waiting for this unknown man. The already bustling square was full of men leading horses, men clearly of Rohan, but Eldanna instinctively knew that none of them were her adopted brother's future employer. _

_They stood in silence for a few minutes, neither willing to infringe on the silence that stretched between them._

_Eventually, Eldanna spoke, "There he is."_

_She pointed to a man, leading two horses, moving towards them at the leisurely gait of one who has more than enough time, and not many worries. His brow was uncreased with a frown; his sturdy body hinted at hard work, but plentiful food. His face was open, almost childish, and Eldanna had the strange feeling that she was the man's elder._

_Although he appeared innocent, he was clearly neither naïve or stupid, and paused only a second to take in the two children's ragged appearance before coming to a conclusion, and treating Eldanna as he would Dareth's mother, had she still been alive._

_"Hello."_

_Eldanna nodded a silent greeting._

_The man, clearly quite talkative, burst into what had clearly been barely suppressed speech, "Dareth, he's a wonderful boy. The lad who used to help out moved to Edoras, and I'm getting old to take care of the horses myself. There's so much work to be done, rebuilding and all, I fig'red that he would have a place, unless, of course, he already has a better position?_

_Eldanna opened her mouth before being interrupted by a flurry of words._

_"We'd take good care of him, my wife and me. We really would. A nice room, nothin' fancy, good, hearty meals." He stopped, wringing his hands nervously._

_Eldanna smiled, enquired of some smaller details so as not to appear overly interested, but she had made up her mind._

_"Ma'am? If you don't mind me asking, when will he be ready to leave? I'm already behind schedule, but I can manage a few days."_

_Eldanna's heart sunk. So soon. Better to make a clean cut, to cut him off and let him start his new life. "Today. As soon as possible," she whispered, trying her hardest to hide the pain in her voice. A better life, she reminded herself. A chance to live._

_The man's face broke into a smile as he turned to Dareth, who had, bored with the conversation, turned to the crowd, and was watching them now, grinning in the innocent way of a child. "Dareth? Are you ready to go?"_

_Dareth turned his blinding grin to Eldanna for a last time before facing his new employ and nodding._

_"Mount up."_

_Dareth obediently swung up into the saddle. Still uncomprehending, he reached down for Eldanna's wrist to help her up, but she firmly shook her head. No._

_Terror filled Dareth's eyes as he realized that he was going on to a new life, alone once more._

_"But…"_

_Eldanna shook her head again, and reached up to grasp her brother's hand. "I love you Dareth. Remember that."_

_Dareth looked down at his hand, which now held the small pouch of coins, the entire amount that the two of them had saved over two years. _

_"You need it more than I do," Eldanna supplied before he could hand it back._

_Still lost for words, Dareth simply nodded his head._

_The man's horse began to walk, and Dareth's followed, eager to return home. _

_"I love you, my brother. But move on. And don't look back." Eldanna called out to the departing rider._

_He turned around, and gave her an uncertain, but hopeful, smile._

_After that, he didn't look back._

Eldanna was rudely awoken from her reverie by the sounds of shouting, and cheering, and overpowering enthusiasm.

She caught snippets of words from those around her, enough to figure out that the Queen was enjoying the sunny day, and walking down the street toward them.

Eldanna, upon coming to this realization, began to slip into the shadows of the building behind her. There was no reason to make herself more of a target for the sudden influx of guards.

As Eldanna had expected, the square filled with guards, all of whom would most likely view her as a threat. Eldanna's eyes darted back and forth as she calculated escape routes. But for now, better to remain, unnoticed, where she was.

Threading through the crowd, several figures moved toward the guards. Expecting only admirers of the Queen wishing a closer view, the guards did not think much of their approach. But Eldanna saw, and she knew.

These figures had surrounded the guards, who were easily outnumbered.

Detachedly, Eldanna realized that the queen would die.

Normally, this realization wouldn't have bothered Eldanna in the slightest; people were made to die.

However, Eldanna was already in a contemplative mood, and had let down the barriers to her memories, so it did not surprise her overly much when she saw her sister's face.

Honor, justice and pride had long ago ceased to have meaning, but Eldanna couldn't forget her sudden realization that she couldn't save her own sister, but now she had a chance to save someone else's.

A fight had broken out by now, and the square was mostly empty, with the few remaining civilians clawing at each other in a desperate attempt to distance themselves from the slaughter.

In the confusion, it was too easy to grab a decent blade from an unsuspecting man. Too easy to slip unnoticed up behind one of the attackers. And then Eldanna paused. She had to make a decision, now. She could leave, and return to what she knew. Or she could throw caution to the winds and herself into a fight that didn't involve her, and would most likely get her killed. Eldanna chose the second; the possibility of death was a bonus.

The element of surprise was on her side, at first, and the fighter closest to her dropped to the ground, his throat cut, without catching sight of her. The second took longer; he at lest attempted to defend himself, albeit clumsily. The third man too was strangely easy to kill.

And then Eldanna realized that she was trapped, with attackers on all sides, and no way to reach help.

The man on her left lunged, and Eldanna leapt aside, only to find herself unprotected to those behind her.

Something hard connected with her head, and Eldanna felt the cold of the stones against her cheek. And then everything was thankfully, painlessly, black…

**I'll post the next chapter in ten days minus the number of reviews I get- 9 reviews and it'll be up tomorrow.**


	10. The Mirror

**This chapters a little short- sorry!**

**Some things I've forgotten to mention: this story _is _AU, so don't expect characters to live or die because they do in the appendices to LOTR. As for the catagory, some of yyou have probably noticed that I changed the catagory not so long ago. This story will, in the end, span almost every genre. The only ones that I'm going to miss, I think, are Western, Horror, Mystery, and maybe one or to more. There won't be much humor. The main genres are, however, family, friendship, trajedy, romance and adventure. Which is more than I'm alowed to have, so I'll probably just switch the genre marking from time to time.**

Galadriel glided through the silent glade. The soft grass slid against her bare feet, and her silken gown barely rustled at her movements. To many Men, she would appear as a ghost.  
For the second time since the destruction of the one ring, Galadriel went to consult her mirror. The first time, she had been faced by an all consuming fire that tore at her soul, and came close to destroying the powerful elf. She was saved by her husband, who, seeing her peril, pulled her away from the dangerous mirror.

She felt the fear in the pit of her stomach, and while she knew better than to ignore her instincts, Galadriel couldn't shake the feeling that something was changing, and the dying power of the elves would sustain this last vision.  
The water splashed in that all too familiar sound as it trickled into the basin, and Galadriel looked into the mirror.  
At first, only the swirling, consuming flames were visible, and Galadriel began to fear for her own survival. The flames, though seen through the mirror, pulled and teared at her, singed the essence of her soul.

Galadriel knew she had little time left before the flames completely destroyed her, and in a final, desperate attempt at survival, she poured her strength into the mirror in hopes of breaking free of the flames.

These attempts seemed to not avail, and Galadriel finally began to panic.

Pushing at the boundaries of the mirror with her mind, she tried to break free, but was unable.

In her panic, Galadriel didn't notice the figures taking shape in the flames until they were almost fully defined and the flames had lessened in intensity.

At first, Galadriel was certain that she saw the past, or some distant future, because in the current peace she could not believe in the existance of such atrocities. And yet, as the images became more and more clear, and the story began to take shape, Galadriel realized that she was looking at the paths of the near future.  
The mirror began to show her the future with an image of men, toiling in what was clearly the heat of Harad. A whip leaped from a point beyond Galadriel's view, and struck one of the men. Galadriel resisted the urge to grind her teeth at the demeaning treatment, and, instead, watched, horrorstruck, as one of the men fell, exhausted from too much work in too much heat on too little food or water. He was trampled by his fellows.  
Aragorn, at the head of a massive army, marched in righteous anger towards the south. An arrow flew from the troops behind him. The army of Gondor swirled in turmoil, searching for the traitor in its midst as its king fell, dead, from his white horse.

Legolas, armed only with a clumsy human knife, fighting in the shadows of some human town, defending himself against more men than she could count. A blade found an opening in his defences, and he fell, his lifeblood spilling onto the cold, unforgiving stones.

Gimli, defending the halls of his fathers with legions of dwarves at his back. His face face froze in shock as a Roparric arrow buried itself in his chest.

Arwen, immense pain on her face, raced into battle for Gondor, intent on dying for the country in whose service her husband had died. She fell quickly, and Galadreil watched as she faded quickly from the memory of the country she had given her life and her hope to.

A terrible betreyal, a decision made based on so many lies that Galadriel, watching, couldn't tell right from wrong, dark from light.

She saw men have to choose between the lives of their daughters or their wives, she watched families, divided, cutting each other down. Houses burned, and civilians fled from each other.

In horror, Galadriel watched the world consumed by greed and slavery.

And then it disappeared, merged into the void, became nothing.

For a moment, Galadriel held her breath, waiting for an alternate future, but nothing happened. Nothing changed. And then a blinding flash of light, and her a vision, slow and serene by comparison to the previous sights.

Thranduil, king of Mirkwood, walked along a beach that Galadriel instinctively identified as Valinor.

He stared across the sea, resentment in his eyes. A tear fell from the proud king's cheek, and he angrily wiped it away, only to have it replaced with another.

The surface of the mirror rippled, disturbed by the impact of a tear. Galadriel rocked back on her heels, her cheeks wet.

"We fought so hard. We _won_. Why so much more suffering? Why do we have to fight again, before the children born in the aftermath of the storm have written their first letters?" she whispered to the wind.

And, although Galadriel had not looked for it, the wind had an answer, in a strange haunting melody.

_All that is elven does not shimmer_

_Not all traitors forever betray_

_Those who are young and strong still can whither_

_The victor does not always live to fight another day_

_To death and life alone or not goes_

_A seascape born without a cloud_

_A daughter-descendant of twilight to face her foes_

_And claim her inheritance as a queen proud._

Another quest, so soon after the last, Galadriel mused. And yet, Galadriel couldn't shake the feeling that this one wouldn't end as well as the last. No. Not nearly as well.


End file.
